Pity the Devil, an Angel of the Lord
by WerewolvesAreReal
Summary: "I love my family, you know? I truly, truly do." Instead of being left to Meg, Castiel is taken to a secret location and twisted to Lucifer's purpose. The Way to Hell is paved with good intentions. AU of 5.10 'Abandon All Hope'.
1. Chapter 1

**I am quite possibly **_**incapable **_**of writing anything happy. And apparently have a deeply-repressed desire to see Castiel Fall.**

**Disclaimer; I do not own Supernatural, nor any of the characters, ideas, concepts, or other materials within.**

**Warnings for blasphemy, totally inaccurate biblical accounts, and torture.**

**Summary: Instead of being left to Ruby, Castiel is taken to a secret location and twisted to Lucifer's purpose...**

* * *

**Pity on the Devil, an Angel of the Lord**

* * *

_"Aren't you a peculiar thing?"_

The words echoed in Castiel's mind as he waited in the darkness. The bare, stone-walled room was only illuminated by the flickering light of holy fire, throwing the Enochian sigils on the wall into stark relief. Some were sigils to stop an angel from flight, he saw - others to weaken Grace, and stop communication; and there were some he didn't recognize at all, which made sense. Archangels were much more educated in such matters than lowly footsoldiers.

He recalled conversing with his brother in the warehouse. Lucifer had done - _something - _to knock him unconscious; and Castiel had been left, alone, in the dark. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed with his powers blocked; he hoped that the Winchesters and Harvelles had been able to safely stop the summoning of Death, but he had an itching sense that they _hadn't._

"Good, you're awake."

Castiel was startled by the voice, twisitng around to see the devil striding through the door. Unsettled, he realized that he hadn't even been able to sense the Morninstar's Grace; what was being done to him?

"You look worried, little brother." Lucifer smiled, a genial, be-at-ease smile that only made his features seem all the more ominous.

"What happened?"

Lucifer's smile vanished. "The Winchesters are alive, if that's what you're wondering - though the human females were not quite as fortunate."

Castiel bowed his head, briefly, a blessing forming in his head automatically. At least they were at peace in Heaven, he thought, but their loss was a cause of sorrow nonetheless.

"You... mourn them? Those humans?" Lucifer pronounced _mourn _as though he were tasting the word for the first time.

"They were friends."

"I see." It was clear he did not. "...Oh, Castiel... What a sad thing you are. An angel without Grace, mucking about with humans..."

"I have not Fallen yet."

"'Yet' being the key word. But you will; you know it. But, Castiel... There are different ways to Fall. You can forsake your Grace entirely... or you can join me."

Lucifer began to pace around Castiel's circle, all the grace of some feline predator, his eyes tracing Castiel as though sizing up a purchase. "Heaven has been corrupted, Little Brother; you know it. It is why you rebelled. Together we can fight to bring it to peace again."

"You do not bring Peace, Lucifer. And why do you desire my help?" Castiel eyed the devil. "How could I possibly benefit you?"

"Is being Family not reason enough?" Lucifer seemed honestly hurt.

"You seemed to have no compunctions with killing Family during the last War."

"Then in that, it seems, we are the same." Castiel flinched. Lucifer stopped pacing, and stood squarely in front of Castiel.

"You will not reconsider?"

"I would rather die, Lucifer, than ever join you."

"Oh, it won't come to that. I have other plans for you, Castiel - and you shall beg to join me before long."

* * *

Lucifer was the first angel.

This is known; but it is not understood. Lucifer was witness to the creation of all his brothers - something that could not be said by even the other archangels. No angel knew the words said at his own creation, unless told by one who had been witness; and for Lucifer, there was no witness.

But Lucifer Watched as Michael was brought forth from the ether, bright and glorious, and Father said, "This my son, the Archangel of protection; and he shall be a leader among his kind, and go by the name of Michael."

Micheal blinked into existence, flaming sword in hand. He flew beside Lucifer, and Watched.

"This is my son, the Archangel messenger; and he shall spread my word and will, and sound the horns of war, and go by the name of Gabriel."

Gabriel appeared, great and shining, holding his polished horn aloft in the air. He flew beside Lucifer, and Watched.

"This is my son, the Archangel of healing, and he shall bring comfort and wellness to my earthly children, and go by the name of Raphael."

Raphael appeared, less bright than the others but still mighty, and joined them, and Watched.

Some of the duties were interesting, with angels being assigned specific roles, and Lucifer Watched them all.

"This is my son, the angel who shall punish those who dare transgress against me, and go by the name of Camael."

"This is my son, the angel who shall help guide the hand of Fate, and go by the name of Uriel."

"This is my son, the angel of light who shall praise my name and burn too brightly too look upon, and go by the name Seraphiel."

"This is my son, the angel who shall be my scribe and Voice, and go by the name of Metatron."

The archangels were the only angels permitted to watch the entire naming, but it was not required. Even immortal and patient beings such as they could become bored, especially when so new to life and Creation. Raphael was the first to leave, after the creation of the Seraphim but before even all the Dominions could be declared.

The Ophanim came next, and then the Cherubim, and when the last Cherub was named Michael, too, grew tired and left. And then there were two.

Gabriel was fidgety, but watched the creation of his brothers with intense interest - at least until the malakhim.

The malakhim were the largest group of angels - and, frankly, the most boring to see named. Lucifer could understand their collective importance, and respect them, but they were nevertheless all the same.

"This is my son, an angel who shall be sword and shield to Heaven, and carry out my will, and he shall go by the name Elliel."

"This is my son, an angel who shall be sword and shield to Heaven, and carry out my will, and he shall go by the name Williel."

"This is my son, an angel who shall be sword and shield to Heaven, and carry out my will, and he shall go by the name Feressiel."

"This is my son, an angel who shall be sword and shield to Heaven, and carry out my will, and he shall go by the name Torenniel."

Halfway through, even Gabriel could stand it no longer. The messenger of God abruptly turned and winged away, and only Lucifer and Father remained.

Lucifer felt that he might as well finish watching the last of his brethren born, but the long litany of names wearied him. He was just considering leaving when Father's speech suddenly changed.

"And this is my son, the last angel." Lucifer perked up. "He shall be a sword and shield to Heaven, and carry out my purpose; and he shall not meet me, but shall most closely know my will." _This _was different. "He shall be most like to Man, and learn from them, and gain eventually free will; and with that freedom he shall decide the fates of nations, and of Heaven itself, which may one day bow before his name."

Lucifer's wings flapped excitedly, and God finished; "And he shall go by the name Castiel."

When Lucifer joined the other angels, he found that most other's Origins had been explained already by the other archangels; and through Gabriel the purpose of all the malakhim was already known, and so none of them asked Lucifer for the words of their birth.

Lucifer watched Castiel join the ranks of the malakhim, a faceless soldier with average Grace - and though he knew not why, he said nothing.

* * *

It never ended.

They strung him up, black-eyed wraiths with feral smiles, and tore at his body with oily weapons of sin and brimstone, each cut and lash a drop of poison, despair. It stung and burnt and _hurt, _in a way angels were never meant to hurt, and before long his vessel's throat was raw from screaming.

Even these poisonous devil-blades couldn't kill him, but his healing powers were weak; before long the angel was a bloodied, skinless mass of quivering flesh amid haunting sigils and holy fire, with laughing demons literally gnawing at his ankles, tickling his bare flesh, pulling out intestines and _squeezing._

And then from the doorway there came a light, so bright and beautiful and _glorious _that his breath caught, and the demons, mercy of mercies, fell away. For a moment Castiel just stared at it in awe, fogginess and the mist of pain bleeding away as he drank in the beauty and _righteousness _of the form. Then he realized what he was looking at.

"Little brother," said the devil. "It pains me to see you like this."

A step, another; cool fingers brushed his red-stained cheek, a touch not of fire but of Grace, and suddenly the pain was gone. His skin was whole and white and unmarred, his head clear, his breath pure and easy. Castiel stared at Lucifer.

"That's better. Have you reconsidered, Castiel?"

Castiel found his voice. Though his body was hale again, it shook slightly. "I will never join you, Lucifer."

Satan smiled sadly, and it seemed there was real regret in his features, a face of tragedy so old and sorrowful that it might make a stranger weep in sympathy, and against his will Castiel felt his heart strain. "Then I am sorry, Brother."

The devil vanished, and the demons came forth again.

* * *

Sometimes, Lucifer wondered what had been said at his creation.

There was no way of knowing, of course. He saw Father but rarely, and even then God would never tell him; God was annoyingly cryptic that way. Even so, Lucifer wondered. Did he have a true, fated purpose, or was he just made to be obedient, to love? To fight, to praise, to... what? Was he like the hordes of faceless malakhim, or the ever-dutiful Seraphim?

Somehow Lucifer didn't think so. He was the First, after all, and an archangel besides. In a way, perhaps the mystery gave him his own splendour - the only angel whose fate hadn't been foretold.

(Castiel's was not known to anyone else, either, but in time he forgot this almost entirely).

Lucifer was surely the greatest of all the angels; he accepted this as a fact, as his brethren did. He wondered if perhaps his Purpose was too great to be known; maybe there was something in the journey that couldn't be given away too soon.

Whatever the reason, he trusted his father. He trusted the Plan. God was, after all, omniscient and all-powerful; Lucifer had no reason for Doubt.

And then, the humans.

The were such _tiny _things, mortal and insignificant; less appealing even then the curious and fascinating lifeforms Father had created on that world called Earth, because these creatures were _parasites _of the worst sort. They destroyed all they came into contact with. They lived short, dumb lives, and had the potential to spread like some terrible virus, creating chaos and destruction for Father's Work as they went.

Lucifer didn't understand their purpose, and he refused to love those foul, lesser things as Father demanded. They were animals, and he would no more bow before them than the snakes and ferns of Earth. When he learned of the making of the first humans, and foresaw what destruction they would bring, there was only one possible path.

So he went to Eden, a paradise of Heaven wasted on mortals. He was let through without question, for was he not the most faithful of his Father's children? And from inside he took the form of a snake, a lizard-like creature, and went before the First Woman. There were other humans on Earth, he knew, but these two were Father's favorites, and the only ones who had as yet received special instructions from Him. He would prove to Father the folly of loving these creatures above his own, loyal angels.

(Maybe _this _was his purpose, Lucifer thought, making Father see reason when others would not dare. That God was Ineffable did not occur to him).

So Lucifer tempted the daughter of Eden, and she bit the apple from the forbidden tree, and in wrath God struck them from Eden; so humans were declared to be sinful and tainted. Lucifer was joyous. Then the form of the snake was punished to be without legs, and Lucifer himself was chastised, and humiliated, and he accepted his punishment obediently.

But, again, Father demanded he bow to the humans, demanded he offer them love, and Lucifer was aghast.

Of course he argued, of course he fought! He loved his father, his brothers, but it was not in him to love these creatures. Was that so wrong?

Apparently.

_Am I not as God created me? _He wondered. _Shall I be punished for sins that were made in me at Creation?_

_Is this my Purpose?_

Lucifer gained support, but not enough, and Michael - his beloved brother, closest to him in Grace and power and thought - struck him from Heaven with his flaming sword, while Gabriel's horn rang out in glory and triumph and sorrow, and Raphael flitted to and fro, tending to the dying immortals with stricken grief that would later harden him.

And Lucifer Fell to his prison. But even from the Cage he had power of a sort, at first, and he wrought Hell and fashioned his demons from the first of his angelic followers, who would in turn go on to fashion demons from sinful humans who were also barred from Heaven.

There was, he thought, a cruel irony in that.

* * *

"O Father, hear my prayer..."

Castiel's rasp was cut off by a blood-filled cough, and the demons laughed, laughed, laughed in his face.

"He praying to Daddy," they jeered. "Look, look, the little angel's praying to Daddy!"

"Why, he's praying to me, is he?"

The demons fell away, fell silent, and Castiel opened his eyes automatically, eyes seeking out the wonderous flare of light like a man in a desert seeking water.

And then that light, lovely touch, and pain fell away, too. Castiel took a shaky breath in the brief respite, for he knew what was coming.

"Have you reconsidered, Brother?"

Castiel's eyes frantically drank in all the Light he could.

"Brother?"

Castiel licked his crack lips. "I - will never join you, Lucifer."

And the light was gone.

Outside, Lucifer wondered. Only God had seen his Creation; and only the two of them watched Castiel's. Did that make him, in a fashion, the father of Castiel? What if he fashioned Castiel into something new, something more glorious? Would that erase Father's taint? He thought so.

The screams that sounded behind him seemed to agree.

* * *

Lucifer watched humans from the Cage throughout the millenia, whispering through the cracked places of the earth to sow seeds of sin and doubt. He laughed when the 'righteous' were tempted, each a new testament to Lucifer's original thinking. Were not humans flawed, and weak, and base? Each was individual proof of Lucifer's righteousness. He would not repent; Father must be the first to do that.

Some even worshipped _him, _which was even more delicious. He didn't care for humans, after all, but these weak things seemed to think their pandering would buy his favor. Foolish, but useful. But Lucifer did not like blasphemy; there was a special place in Hell set aside for his mortal followers, more dark and miserable than even the rest.

So the king of Deceit spent the eons Whispering blasphemy and hating it, and tempting godly men and scorning them. He was weeding the weakest from Heaven, and was that not just? Was it not a boon to his Father? And yet the angels cursed him, his true brothers, and so many died...

It pained him, their deaths. But they had made their own choices, and he his. Everything else must follow.

Lucifer wondered if _this _was his purpose.

* * *

There was darkness and boiling water and sulfur in the air, pouring down his throat, choking him. Castiel gagged up bloody froth and wheezed past aching lungs to _scream _as flesh was peeled from bones and those bones twisted and cracked and burnt -

And then light, beautiful and glorious, and the _relief _that he felt was wrong, wrong, wrong, but why? What could be so bad about this lovely, beautiful, merciful light -

And then the pain was gone, and he remembered.

"Have you reconsidered, Brother?"

Castiel bit his lip until it wept blood anew, but he could not bear to look away from the Light.

The silence dragged on.

"...I will never join you, Lucifer."

_Darkness._

* * *

Lucifer thought about Castiel, sometimes.

_'which may one day bow before his name.' _He had free will, too, or would. Did that mean Father wouldn't punish the littlest angel if _he _rebelled? The thought rankled. But something else occurred to him;

_"...and with that freedom he shall decide the fates of nations, and of Heaven itself..."_

But what decision would he make?

Lucifer had heard that Father had disappeared from Heaven; he hadn't been seen from centuries. So Lucifer was the only one with any inkling of Castiel's potential. He wondered if maybe Castiel had been killed in any of the wars. It probably wouldn't reach Lucifer's ears, the death of a single, faceless malakhim, and for some reason when the thought occurred it made him irrationally angry.

(He may, possibly, have started the Crusades that day).

* * *

"Please, please, Father, stop them..."

A touch of Holy Oil to his tongue, and dash of brimstone, and the pleas turned to feral shrieks of pain, his pained swaying to writhes of agony. Fire erupted from his mouth, his eyes, rubbing at the edges of his torn Grace, and it _hurt..._

And then there was light.

"Have you reconsidered, Brother?"

Castiel fought not to weep, and it was a losing fight. "I will _never _join you, Lucifer!"

And then he screamed again...

* * *

While waiting for Castiel to be broken down once more, Lucifer heard a prayer.

_"O Father, Son, and they Holy Spirit, Michael and Gabriel, Raphael and Samael, hear my prayers..."_

- and Lucifer laughed, for how could he not? Listening to the prayers of a devout Christian, praying to Father and Michael and Gabriel and Raphael... and Samael, Lucifer, without even realizing.

Humans.

What could he do but oblige?

So Lucifer winged to Georgia (he laughed again) and found that the man was alone in an empty mansion, staring morosely into the fire as sad music played in the background.

_Pathetic._

It was an old man, bedraggled and mournful. He had sky-colored eyes, red-rimmed with fatigue and the sting of old tears. Deep, sorrowful lines made his face heavy. Wisps of white hair played around his head and cheeks, and his blue-veined hands were clenched around an old copy of the Bible, that false work of drunk humans, as he wept quietly before the fire.

"What is wrong, good Sir?"

The man gasped, twisting as quickly as he could. Sparing him the trouble, Lucifer strolled in front of the fire, smiling with false geniality.

"Who are you?" The old man rasped.

"You prayed for me, did you not?"

The human's eyes went round.

"I am Samael."

A dark wind blew into the room; against the black wall, six arcs of lightning were thrown against the wall in stark relief, and the man gasped in awed amazement.

"Samael," he said, with wonder. "Oh, Lord..."

_Yes. _"Not quite," Lucifer said, aloud. "Wby did you call me, my... child."

Not willing to pass up this shocking opportunity, the awed man collected himself. "It's - it's my grandchildren, my lord. My grandchildren, they - they were lost to me, you see, killed by some crazy devil-worshipper..." Lucifer hid a smile "and I - it's not _right, _Sir, it isn't, for an old man to live while such kids die..."

"What would you have me do?"

The old man looked at him, pleadingly. "Can't... can't you bring 'em back?"

Lucifer considered the man. He sat. "I have a test for you, good human, a test of sacrifice. Do you want to hear it?"

"Yes, oh, yes! Anything!"

"Then let us make a deal..."

Lucifer returned with a shiny, pious soul, and left two undead children behind; and he laughed.

* * *

"Stop, stop, _please, _anything..."

"What, no weeping for daddy?" a demon mocked.

The angel, weeping tears of diamonds, didn't hear him.

And then the Sun joined them, and the demons retreated.

"Have you reconsidered, Brother?"

The pain left, but Castiel wept, and said nothing.

"Brother?"

"Why?" Castiel's vessel took a deep, shuddering, totally _unecessary_ breath. "Why, Brother? I don't... I don't..."

"Oh, Castiel..." Lucifer sighed, stepped forward. A cool hand reached out to touch the _malakhim's _fire-scorched one, and the young angel sobbed anew. "Why do you put yourself through this? It pains me, Little Brother..." And sorrow _was _there, etched in his face. "I do not want you hurt... End this, please. I am trying to make you see reason; all you need to do is say the word..."

Castiel's body trembled.

"Brother?"

"...I..._no."_

"I am sorry, Brother."

And the Light went out.

* * *

"I love my family, you know? I truly, truly do."

The captured angel - Enumiel, he was called - panted as he stared at the devil with terror. "Have mercy," he blurted.

He was a malakhim, but he was not Castiel.

"I love _all _of my family," Lucifer repeated. "Raphael, Michael, even Gabriel... They loved, but not enough, you understand? I watched all of your births. _All _of them. I even saw you creation, Enumiel.

_"This is my son, an angel who shall be sword and shield to Heaven, and carry out my will, and he shall go by the name Enumiel."_

"Your birth was boring," the devil added. Enumiel trembled.

Lucifer stared at his brother, one of a million, and he saw a stranger.

_(Not Castiel...)_

A blade drawn, a thrust, a spill of Grace, and it was over.

* * *

Castiel wasn't even begging.

He knew it would end; it didn't seem like it, but it would. So he focused on Light, on the memory of the Light, and at first, he didn't beg.

But the memory was distant, and the pain _real, _and finally the screams turned to struggling gasps, and again, "_Please, please, please..."_

This time, he wasn't begging for Father.

When he saw the Light, his tears were of relief, and he clung to the Grace that healed him like a dying man.

Then, the voice.

"Have you reconsidered, Brother?"

"..."

"Brother?"

"..._No."_

It was a lie, and they both knew it, and when the lie made the Light leave Castiel couldn't remember why he didn't just tell the truth.

* * *

Before his Fall, Lucifer liked to sing.

As with most things Lucifer took a liking to, he was the best. He was the minister of the Heavenly Choir during his time there. All the crafts of music were his masterpieces. Of his work were violas and cellos, the harp and the song of the voice, and it was he who fashioned the first songs of praise for the Lord. Father had been well pleased by this, and praised His prideful son in front of the Host, saying, "_The work of the Morninstar has brought new glory and beauty to Heaven."_

Lucifer hated the brash crashing and growling that accompanied music made in his own name, the dark whispers and hisses that his idiot followers thought were proper. But one of the first things he'd done upon leaving the Cage was to attend Church one Sunday morning and listen to the songs, and as he waited for Castiel to break he did so again.

A church was hallowed ground, but was he not an archangel? And so Lucifer entered, and sat, and listened.

(He gave out candy to a few children as he waited for the service to begin, and he smiled, and later that Sunday those children would die, Hallelujah and Amen.)

The sermon amused him, and the Sin he saw on each soul in the room even moreso. But he wasn't here for that. He'd come for the music.

And, oh, what music! The weak harmony of a hundred untrained, _human _voices was nothing like the Choirs of Heaven, but it sufficed. The message and the main chorus was enough, and he closed his eyes as he stood, opening his mouthing and joining his Praises with theirs, letting just enough Grace shine through that the modest church halls rang with reminiscent glory, and shone.

When the songs finished he opened his eyes. Some of those closest to him had stopped singing early on, and were eyeing him with wonder. He smiled.

Later, he came back and burnt the church.

* * *

Lucifer returned, and by Hell-time Castiel had been Below for ninety-three years.

When the Light pierced shadow this final time, Castiel looked up, and a broken, loving smile creased his face. Tears fell from his eyes, unheeded, and he spoke before Lucifer could.

"My Brother... please..."

And the devil smiled. "Have you reconsidered, Brother?"

"Yes."

The chains fell.

And _this_, the devil knew suddenly, was his purpose.

* * *

_Misery loves company_

_ And company loves more _

_More loves everybody else _

_But hell is others_

-Emilie Autumn, 'Misery Loves Company'


	2. Mourn for Them, the Lost Angels

**The still-upbeat ending.**

**Disclaimer; I do not own Supernatural, nor any of the characters, ideas, concepts, or other materials within.**

**Warnings for blasphemy, totally inaccurate biblical accounts, and torture.**

**Summary: Instead of being left to Ruby, Castiel is taken to a secret location and twisted to Lucifer's purpose...**

* * *

**Mourn for Them, the Lost Angels**

* * *

Castiel has been many things.

He has been a Son and angel, first and foremost above all, a devout follower of his Father the Lord. He has been a soldier, a commander, and has fought well against evil. He has been a Brother, and to his siblings a traitor; he has been friend to humans, ally to a demon, and to many other mortals a creature to be revered and worshipped. For Jimmy he was the resented usurper of the man's naturally-given body, and to the forces of Lucifer he has long been an enemy.

Now he is Fallen.

Castiel recalls grieving beside Uriel after the first Fall, the kindred war between Heaven and the forces of the soon-to-be-Hell. Castiel fought bitterly, brethren on all sides, both allied and opposing, and he remembers the fleeting sense of betrayal and loss and _confusion._

"I do not understand," he had told Uriel. "Why would they defy Father so? And why would they fight? Father is infallible and righteous; _Heaven _is infallible and righteous. They do nothing but cause suffering and death."

Uriel had been full of mirth in those days, but at that moment his face was drawn and dark with the pain of War. "...Perhaps it is part of the Plan," he said, finally. "The humans have a saying; 'God works in mysterious ways'."

"But there is no purpose in this," said Castiel. "And why would father hold wrath for actions he caused to occur?"

"That is not for me to know - for us to know."

"But - "

"Do you question the will of our Father?" Uriel asked, abruptly. He twisted suddenly to look at Castiel, and Castiel himself automatically looked _down, _down through the Gates and through the Earth and into the pits of Hell where their Fallen brethren lay, damaged and broken for doing just that.

"...Of course not, Uriel."

* * *

"How did the Winchesters get the Colt anyway, Little Brother?"

"A demon gave it to them - Crowley, King of the Crossroads," said Castiel.

"Oh?" Lucifer mused. "I'll have to kill him. I do seem to be going through demons quickly. Ah, well; there's certainly enough of them."

Castiel nodded because it seemed expected, and Lucifer graced him with a brilliant, beautiful smile. The pull of the archangel's Grace was intoxicating, and he shifted closer.

The usual weak, Grace-to-Grace connection of all angels had been replaced by a two-way bond, strong but perverse. But any connection was still _a_ connection; Castiel felt stronger then he had in years - stronger than that, even, for the unholy power in him was much greater than that of the average _malakhim._

"You don't have any problems with going after the Winchesters, do you, Castiel?"

"I am here to serve."

It came out without thought, an automatic, instinctive response to years of service - the response he would give to an order of a holy mission, the response of a subordinate to leader of the Garrison, and they both knew it. Castiel looked to Lucifer, wondering if he would be angry; but the archangel's eyes were warm and bright, his smile wider than ever.

_"Good."_

* * *

Dean scowls, tipping back a shot of whiskey as he considers a photo of Jo and Ellen.

"This day - Colt didn't work, Death is out - and where the hell is Cas?"

"He didn't turn up when I prayed," Sam says.

"He never turns up when you pray," Dean says, a little smugly. Sam scowls, but can't deny it. "I'll try," Dean decides. He starts to stand, pauses, and then takes another shot of whiskey. He hears Sam sigh at his back, and ignores it.

Dean steps outside of Bobby's house, though technically location makes no difference. He glares up at the sky. His 'prayer' is typically irreverent. "Oi, Cas! You alive? Sam's worrying like a girl. We're at Bobby's, so if you're kicking, get your feathery ass - "

"Dean."

"Shit!" The shot glass drops with a crash. "Fuck, Cas, _personal space, _you remember that talk?"

Castiel tilts his head, face even more blank than usual. "...Yes."

He doesn't seem about to say anything else, and Dean huffs. "Well - _space, _alright, dude?" He sighs. "But, it's good to see you're alive - what the hell happened?"

"...Happened?"

"You? Disappearing after Death came up? Before then, actually - where were you?"

Castiel stares at Dean for a moment. Something dark seems to twitch in his face; pained, tortured, then gone in a breath, and Dean blinks. "...I was... indisposed."

"That supposed to mean something?"

"Lucifer and Meg captured me with Holy Oil. Lucifer left to attend to Death's rising, and in time I got away."

"Took you awhile."

"I was... somewhat injured."

"You okay now?"

"Yes."

"Well... alright." Dean frowns, but the angel doesn't seem any worse off. "...Good."

* * *

Castiel never learned to fly.

He _can _fly, obviously; he just never _learned. _It was a knowledge he was made with; he was created, he flew. No thought of new experiences or the unknown, just _this will work, _this _is, _this is how I get from here to there -

So Castiel never really _appreciated _flight until it was denied to him, first during the First War, where Lucifer used anti-angel sigils against his own kind.

Even so, the _knowledge _was there. If he could not fly, he tried to break the sigils, or would find another method of movement. Simple. Easy. Direct. No room for leeway.

In fact, Castiel never really had much reason for independant thought during his time in Heaven. He took orders, and he obeyed. He kept faith in Father, because he was an angel and that was (he thought) what angels did. Simple. Easy. Direct. No room for leeway.

Then the Siege.

He joined the Siege on Hell and the search for the Righteous Man. At first he was with the rest of the Garrison, but he was quicker, or maybe just lucky, and when others were ensnared in traps or killed by mobs of demons he flew, flew, flew, until he was left alone. There were no orders, and his old orders were obsolete; Castiel had to decide his next actions alone, had to rescue the Righteous Man _alone, _and be ready to deal with the consequences of each move he made.

Ironically, Castiel had his first taste of free will in Hell.

* * *

When Castiel finds Anna, he senses her lies mostly because of familiarity with his own. When he realizes her plans, he doesn't go straight to the Winchesters; instead he finds Lucifer.

"She means to stop Sam from ever being born."

Lucifer shakes his head. "He is my perfect vessel; stop this."

So he sends the Winchesters back - no issue, with his new powers - and everything works out. Surprisingly, Michael is the one to stop Anna's plans.

And since Lucifer wants Sam alive, there's nothing wrong in feeling relieved.

* * *

The Winchesters summon Castiel when they find angelic markings on the the hearts of the dead. He suspects a rogue Cupid, and tells them without hesitation - why not? But there is something _off, _and in time he senses the oily, dark presence of a horseman, but he doesn't know which.

He accompanies Dean and Sam, but it's _hard _for a dozen conflicting reasons. It's almost painful to stay away from them - Dean chides him on "Personal space, Cas!" a dozen times over a half-hour period. But at the same time, he _yearns _to return to Lucifer's light, and bathe in the Morninstar's radiant Grace.

Sometimes, seditiously, he yearns for Father.

The horseman turns out to be Famine, _of course, _and Castiel is frozen, because he's being pulled in different directions and doesn't know where to turn - Dean, Lucifer, God - and finally he's left trembling on the floor of a corpse-ridden diner, face to the ground as he mumbles and weeps prayers, and he doesn't know to whom he's even praying.

Famine is killed; Sam goes through a pained withdrawal, and his screams of pain bring back that three-way longing, pulling him in different directions.

Castiel hears Dean go outside, and the hunter begs God for help. Castiel wavers, waiting - some strange part of him, ludicrously, half expecting an answer. There isn't one. So he flies, and returns to Lucifer, and presents the gleaming ring of Famine.

* * *

Castiel never really had friends.

Of course, 'friends' are something of a human concept. Castiel had brothers, hundreds and thousands and millions of brothers, and wasn't that enough?

Except they weren't, not really. Castiel dutifully professed love to his siblings, and he _did _love them, but it was a distant, obligated sort of love. I am an angel, you are an angel; I love you. I am an angel, you are my Father; I love you.

Then there was Earth. And Dean and Sam could be insufferable, and arrogant, and demanding, and rude in a dozen different ways, but they _cared. _They cared enough to be illogical, they cared enough to _risk_ for him. What angel would do that? There were some angels he preferred more than others, angels he interacted with a little more than the average soldier, but usually that was more due to their paths crossing often than anything. And if those friends were ordered to kill Castiel, they would kill him.

I am an angel, you are an angel; I love you. I am an angel, you are Fallen; I kill you.

Simple. Easy. Direct.

There was Sam, and Dean, and maybe even Bobby. Except now there was an angel, too. Now there was Lucifer.

* * *

Joshua had talked to God, and God was not interested in helping.

The Winchesters told him everything of their time in Heaven, of the rotten hunters Roy and Walt and of Zachariah's torture and anger, but that was the one item that stuck with Castiel.

God. Didn't. Care.

It shouldn't be a surprise. It wasn't, Castiel told himself. He was Lucifer's; what did he care if God gave up on the Apocalypse? So much better for his Brother. Great. Wonderful. Perfect, in fact. Castiel went and told Lucifer, and the devil was pleased, but not surprised.

Castiel took off Dean's necklace, flew to the Sun, and threw it in.

* * *

Atheists were insane.

It was the only conclusion Castiel could come to, watching Earth from Heaven. How could one lack Faith? Not just in Father, but in any religious figure? Surely they couldn't think life had just sprang into existence? Surely miracles must have some origin? They baffled him, these humans, and he understood even less why God sometimes granted them access to Heaven. A lack of Faith seemed to him the highest Sin imaginable, a true perversion; what madness of the mind could stop a person from loving his Father?

Now, standing on the edge of the end of the world, abandoned, Castiel just thinks, _Oh._

* * *

The Winchesters have, somehow, been directed to the Elysiun Fields Motel. Castiel does not arrive with them; he arrives with Lucifer.

They kill pagan gods. Well, not really 'they'. After killing Mercury with a twitch of his fingers, Lucifer turns to Castiel. "And they call _me _prideful," he murmurs. "Let me

handle this, Little Brother; I haven't had such fun in a long time.

So Castiel dutifully trails behind his brother as blood sprays the walls and screams are cut short, and he tries very hard to focus on the light of Lucifer's Grace, and nothing else. Then they get to to the main room.

The Winchesters stiffen at their entrance, looking a little angry, but they are glancing between the two with something like _concern. _Concern, for Castiel, and something seems a little horrible about that, but Castiel pushes away the thought.

"Sam, Dean," says Lucifer, lightly. "Good to see you again."

Dean looks ready to speak, but Baldur is the one stepping forward.

"Baldur, don't," Kali warns, tense.

"You think you own the planet," Baldur hisses. "What gives you the _right - !"_

He rushes Lucifer; there's a terrible, bloody _squish, _and the demigod goes stiff. Lucifer's bloody hand protrudes from his back.

"No one gives us the right," Lucifer tells him. "We _take _it."

Kali's arms burn, and her former fear seems gone; she launches a stream of licking fire at the devil, and Dean throws himself away from the heat. Castiel doesn't bother to move from Lucifer's side; he knows how this will end.

The fire pulls back by Lucifer's will. He moves forward and, toying with Kali, throws a punch that knocks her from her feet.

And then _Lucifer _is thrown back against the wall, and Castiel steps away, eyes going round.

There, in the doorway, is the archangel Gabriel.

"Lucy, I'm home."

The angel-turned-trickster is smirking; the smile falls from his face as he catches sight of Castiel.

"...Castiel?" The angel says nothing. "Castiel, what - " Suddenly enraged, Gabriel turns to Lucifer. "What did you _do?"_

Lucifer huffs, quiet and amused, a tiny smile playing around his mouth as he rises. "Hello, Gabriel. Don't look so upset; Castiel joined me of his free will, after a little..." he shrugs. "...well, you know how little brothers are. Tough love, and all that."

The fire gone, the Winchesters stand. "Cas?" Dean demands, eyes wide. "What's he saying?"

Castiel ignores him.

"He's - _look _at him, Lucifer!" Gabriel points, but his eyes are distant - like he's looking at something _through _Castiel. His Grace, actually. "That's not _normal. _And at least your original followers were willing - this is _wrong. _Even you, Lucifer - "

"Even I?"

Gabriel's face tightens. " - Well - maybe not." He looks at Castiel. "Release him, Brother."

"Castiel doesn't _want _to go," Lucifer says smoothly. "He's free to leave at any time, aren't you, Little Brother?"

Castiel had ignored Dean; Lucifer is another matter entirely. "I am."

Gabriel glowers. "And how long did it take to get him this complacent, Lucy?"

"A few decades in Hell - or was it a century?" Lucifer flicks his fingers. "Anyway, he is what he is. Castiel is _mine."_

Gabriel breathes out, deeply. "Alright. Fine."

"_Fine?" _Dean demands.

"_Fine." _Gabriel glares at the human, then turns to Lucifer. "Finaly throwdown - you and me, Lucy. Leave out the humans and your abomination."

Castiel manages not to wince.

"That's not a very nice thing to say about your Brother, Gabriel," Lucifer chides. "But, as you will." He _tsks. _"You _are _slumming it these days, aren't you? You could join me, if you want."

"Like Hell." A blade slips into Gabriel's fingers.

"Something like that, yes." Lucifer's blade is brought forth. "Leave us to play, won't you Castiel?" His eyes move pointedly to the fleeing Winchester's; Gabriel, glancing back to check that they're leaving, doesn't seem to notice. Castiel nods, and flies.

* * *

Gabriel was always Lucifer's favorite Archangel Brother.

Most peope think of Michael, and they were indeed most often together and the strongest of the archangels, but Gabriel was the Youngest. More importantly, he had more Love in his being than Michael, and certainly more than the cold Raphael. Lucifer's Love burned the most brightly, but Gabriel was the only one who could truly seem to understand him.

But when Lucifer had rebelled, Gabriel had shaken his head at him. "Don't do this," he begged. "You'll just cause conflict in Heaven, Lucifer. Why must you oppose Father?"

"You would bow to these humans? You would swear fealty to them?"

"I would obey Father," said Gabriel. "So if that is Father's wish, yes, I would. Perhaps there is something to be learned from then that we cannot yet see."

"Father is mistaken."

"Lucifer!" Gabriel cried, aghast at the outright blasphemy. Even for Gabriel, such a doubtful thought in those days seemed to be a horrendous thing. "Father is - _Father. _Surely you do not claim to know better than _God?"_

"There are many beings that claim to be Gods. Why should I not become one?"

Gabriel just gaped, and Lucifer flew away.

After the War, and after all the death and destruction and chaos it would render, Gabriel would fake his death and flee from Heaven, grieving for his fallen kin. He would play tricks on prideful mortals, remembering his brother with that very sin, and come to be called Loki, and when the magic inherent in Belief made him a God, he laughed until he wept.

* * *

The Winchester's stumble back as Castiel appears before them. Sam sighs in relief when he sees who it is, but Dean's features go taut and hard.

"Cas, get outta the way."

Sam throws his brother a confused look; then Castiel retrieves his blade, and the man's eyes widen.

"Whoa, Cas!" Sam yelps. "What - "

"I will not hurt you, Sam," says Castiel, calmly. "You are my Brother's vessel, and your safety is paramount."

Sam's mouth drops open.

Castiel keeps his eyes on Dean. "You are both to wait until Lucifer returns," he says flatly. "He has Plans for you."

"Him and the rest of the angel brigade," says Dean angrily. "The hell, Cas? You can _fight this. _Whatever he did to you, I _know _you can fight this."

Castiel says nothing.

There is a flutter of wings. Lucifer is there, sorrow in his bearing, and the Winchesters stumble back a few steps. "It is done," says the archangel, heavily. "Here, Little Brother."

He hands Castiel Gabriel's blade. Castiel stares at it. "I should not have this," he says, for lack of anything better to say.

"When I am God, I shall render you my first archangel," decrees the devil. "It is fitting you shall have an archangel's blade."

Castiel says nothing.

"Now." Lucifer turns. "My dear vessel, and Michael-to-be. You have both been such a... _pain." _His own blade falls to his hand. "I'll make you a deal, Sam-I-Am; say yes, and I'll let your brother live. I won't even torture him - promise."

Sam stares at him, wide-eyed.

"Yes? No? We don't have all day, Sammy." Lucifer steps forward. "It's such an _easy thing..."_

Lucifer goes still.

He chokes, eyes blaring Heavenly white, and when he manages to half-turn he sees a dewy-eyed Castiel, staring at him bleakly, and he thinks, _finally_ understanding,

_This was _your _purpose._

* * *

The Winchesters are ecstatic. But they do not understand.

"Goddamn, Cas!" Dean shouts, disbelieving but so _joyful. _"I actually believed you'd joined him for a minute there!"

"The devil's _dead," _says Sam, shocked. "You - oh my god, you _killed the devil."_

_Killed the devil._

They don't understand, can't understand, and Castiel can't stay. He flies.

He's in Heaven, and why did he come here? He's grabbed immediately by a dozen lesser angels, and then Raphael himself is by Castiel within seconds, angel-blade in hand, grabbing Castiel up, and Castiel says, "The Enemy is dead."

Zachariah's hand goes slack; Castiel is let go, and the blade dropped. The angels around them go silent, and then _all _of it, all of Heaven, is breathless and frozen.

Zachariah is staring. "...How?" He croaks, finally.

"I killed him."

_Gabriel is dead too, _he thinks, but didn't everyone already believe that? But they're all staring, staring, and then they - they _light up with joy, _and they don't understand either.

A few angels, delighted, begin to bow before him. He flies.

Castiel ends up at Singer's auto. Bobby barely blinks at his sudden appearance, and just scowls. "Whaddya want."

"The devil is dead," Castiel says flatly. Bobby's mouth drops, and Castiel wonders why he came at all, because what does he expect? He flies.

He is weak and Fallen and alone among the Fallen, but he flies and flies, and wonders what he is searching for. It is not God.

Sometime later, he finds Kali.

"They're _all _dead," she tells him, hollow. She doesn't seem surprised by his appearance. "Many died or disappeared so long ago, when people stopped Believing, but now - there's just no one. Lucifer killed them. Even Loki - Gabriel."

She's a pagan goddess, powerful in her own right, and she's blinking back tears with an angel of the lord, an angel of the missing lord who has abandoned his flock. And Castiel understands.

Nothing about this is a victory.


End file.
